


Dionysus Hall

by Cinnamaldeide



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Will, Alpha!hannibal, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Not Beta Read, Omega Verse, Omega!Georgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 15:10:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamaldeide/pseuds/Cinnamaldeide
Summary: Omegas are meant to sooth Alphas, to expose the instinctive eagerness to protect rather than the impulse for violence. Jack deems omegan companionship as an appropriate substitute for the professional support to which the Federal Bureau of Investigation would ordinarily resort.





	Dionysus Hall

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hannibal-a-b-o-library’s [#SummertimeSlick](https://hannigram-a-b-o-library.tumblr.com/post/161319937191/summertimeslick-1st-31st-july-2017-running).  
> July 23rd: Slave Audition

Enormous, sparkling crystal ceilings hang above the multitude of oblivious guests, menacing to fall on their head; Will Graham moves following the edge of the ample hall, looking at the magnificent antiques, listening to suave chamber music, contemplating the artificially serene atmosphere and trying to distract himself from his own evident inadequacy, therefore he’s aware of the looming danger.

Chromatically and acoustically overbearing Alphas and Omegas parade in the multidynamical audition he attends against his better judgement, compelling him to retreat towards an open window, a fancy tapestry on the wall, an ostentatious painting such as the beautiful oil on canvas of Dionysus, after whom the room itself is named.

Much to his chagrin, Jack has sent him in that kind of hotel that gives his auditorium pretentious names instead of anonymous numbers or letters. Waiting in line to offer his formal invite, Will had considered the possibility that they wouldn’t allow him inside, after cursorily glancing at his blatantly rented attire, instead he finds himself surrounded by intrusive Alphas shamelessly sniffing flirtatious Omegas with professional identification badges. At the sight, creeping revulsion knot in his stomach, like Will isn’t an Alpha himself.

So much for a poor excuse of matchmaking service, when all that is required on his part is mental stability. Omegas are meant to sooth Alphas, to mitigate their belligerent nature, to expose the instinctive eagerness to protect rather than the impulse for violence. Jack deems omegan companionship as an appropriate substitute for the professional support to which the Federal Bureau of Investigation would ordinarily resort.

Psychiatry grants analytic evaluations for troubled minds and monitors the intricate evolution of atypical mental states, such as whatever Will has been diagnosed, yet Jack is willing to accept his collaboration on the Chesapeake Ripper’s case, on the condition that his hormonal imbalance is properly taken care of. Jack is even less eager to recourse to a shrink than Will is, but it’s not _his own_ personal matter he’s handling.

Adjusting his needless glasses, Will relishes the unsavoury thought of his yielded sexual discretion, in order to evade psychotherapy. Talk about commitment to the cause.

That does not stop Will from finding unspeakably uncomfortable the opulence that surrounds him; behind his back, high stiletto heels irregularly click on the marble pavement, combined with the crystal rattle of full glasses against one another, in meaningless toasts. Blaring chatters season the cacophonous symphony, letting Will contemplate the beautiful illusion under which he could attend such crowded meetings and get unharmed through the inevitable overwhelm of external stimulation.

Dionysus, in his majestic stillness, is probably the only presence Will acknowledged so far, so to speak; the only one not fuelling his forthcoming headache, passively assisting in its containment. Historical sources agree to sustain the double nature enclosed in the Greek androgynous God carried in his father’s womb as much as in his mother’s. His ambiguous dynamic, blend of alphan confidence and omegan flirtatiousness, fairly represents the merge to which aims the classic prototype of healthy mind and body.

In addition to madness, of course, as always contradicting Greek mythology goes.

Admiring the sight in front of him, Will distinguishes freshly picked berries and sunbathed grapes, Dionysus gracing with languid touches the otherwise ransacked and stained table where the banquet had once been packed with guests and rich of amenities; the very picture of wealth, which Will could appreciate only throw his absorbent mind; his receptive, fertile mind.

Staring at the sumptuous tapestry, feigning not to suffocate the moment he takes his eyes off of its weft, Will nonchalantly avoids intrusive glances and suggestive smells, until he realises his efforts meet the interests of someone else. Someone soundless but _not_ odourless, with undistinguishable hormone activators but pleasing cypress notes in their cologne. A discrete fragrance.

Nothing in common with the arguably acid Beta aftershave Will keeps repeating himself renders in general his night sweats more bearable and in particular his own individual smell not as much threatening to refined noses; he’s momentarily conscious of his lessen perfume mingling with his silent observer’s.

“Nothing in this room captives and maintains the attention as this work of art,” the stranger confidently tells him, while Will concentrates on placing more accurately his inviting scent, “regardless of its questionably tasteful surroundings.”

“Tasteless,” succinctly corrects Will; compelled to distance himself, subconsciously seeking causes to submerge in an even profounder dimension than his mind is even capable of recreating, Will refuses to cast his eyes onto his speaker’s. His own nose fails to clarify his dynamical orientation from the barely hinted body odour, stranger to the maudlin omegan sweetness, yet instinctively rendering him tamer, but reason reminds him that there’s a limited number of reason to address him in such circumstances. “I intend to keep my focus on it, avoid the crowd as long as it will be socially acceptable, and depart with my own prudish decency intact.”

After customarily awkward seconds of pause follow Will’s dismissive comment, against all of his expectations, a thorough answer nip his attempt to withdraw from the conversation; “Not fond of eye contact, are you?”

Not really a question, Will notices. _Definitely Alpha_ , is his final, lapidary verdict, confirmed with a quick glance at the elegant pocket square sticking out of his fanciful suit jacket; it is telling, the absence of an identifier badge hanging from his chest.

“This is quite evidently not my kind of party,” Will asserts, aiming to convey his discomfort; he has so far kept himself happily unrelated to the not entirely acceptable customs of parading thoroughly selected Omegas to expand their possibilities in an arguably indispensable social climb, to overcome their social, healthy and sometimes psychological disadvantages. Will could effortlessly name at least three affected by the latest in his close proximity, yet he desperately tries to prevent his brain from wrapping around their cloying uneasiness, so similar to his. “My presence here is mostly due for professional reasons, one might say.”

Curiously enough, his interlocutor refrains from pointing out the unlikelihood of his only partially sarcastic affirmation, uncomfortably honest. His headache worsens by the minute, yet Will resolves not to dry swallow the entire bottle of aspirin in his possession. Not until the end of the evening.

As Will nervously counts the remaining pills on his sweaty palm, idly fumbling with his spectacle frames at their disappointing _not nearly enough_ amount, previously recognized notes of cypress permeate his nostrils, caressing with their sylvan reminder areas of his brain that Will wasn’t aware needed soothing. “Your distress is palpable,” whispers the familiar voice, uncomfortably close to his ear, “and I suspect your anxious condition extends further than the confines of this hall.”

Will can count on the fingers of one hand the times he cared for unwanted attention; his voice sounds remarkably sarcastic, as he tells so in a conspiring tone to his improvised physician. The concern in his features doesn’t falter over Will’s poor manners, as he insists, “Let me help you.”

Despite his deceivingly promising smell, his inviting, gentle posture as he poses his hand to lightly support Will’s elbow in a display of excessive care, this Alpha doesn’t deceive his largely dominant nature. His intent eyes hide profound interest, yet perspective of a refusal are not contemplated as an answer; paradoxically, such strong willpower is exactly what Will needs to centre his mind, extracting it from its overbearing surroundings, from starving Alphas and restless Omegas. A predator that would chase all of lessen opponents from his spinning head.

Without proper introductions, Will closes his tired eyes and lets himself rely on soft touches, steady speech, warm glances; their proximity discourage attendants so much as guests to engage in the unilateral conversation. Will finds it’s an effective therapy, since he shamelessly dozes lulled in the monotone enlightenment about the double dynamical nature of Dionysus.

“The tragic death of his mortal mother, whichever the tradition favours, didn’t result in his premature passing, rather in his so-called second birth, when Zeus, father of all Gods, rescued the unborn by sewing him into his own thigh.” He utters, minutely observing Will’s reaction, monitoring his discomfort. “He remained in his divine limb until the full growth of his baby features, acquiring not only his father’s godly immortality, but the alphan strength that his omegan mother lacked.”

“Gifting his existence with both the dualities in which nature traditionally confined humankind,” Will finishes his sentence, glimpsing the brief smile his intervention provides; “Androgynous in the most comprehensive sense.”

Satisfied, his temporary treating physician continues, “The theme of multidynamical creatures in the classic mythology imposed in the Renaissance scene long before Michelangelo’s notorious _Bacchus_ sculpture made its entrance.”

In slow, peaceful moments, awareness of his own restored comfort washes over Will; he recognizes the appeal in the meticulous description of the staggering young holding grapes for an opportunist faun. Will had shown less than mediocre attitude for artistic studies, in his compulsory education, yet he could savour throw his keen imagination the stranger dedication to the subject, until its taste becomes too intense, reverberates onto the mirror of his usual waking nightmares.

“Artists celebrate what encounters their approval and improve what offends their senses,” Will stats on his own volition, almost unaware of his own response. “They polish raw material, discard the unnecessary, elevate throw their art,” he keeps talking, not sure where his knowledge comes, slowly dissipating the light fog inspiring his speech, “without knowing how much their work actually says about them.”

Murder would speak volumes about their culprit, as it does of Will’s receptiveness in regards to an uncustomary form of expression such as heinous crimes. His unhealthy fascination with extreme acts of cruelty is telling for his high degree of empathy, as much as the Chesapeake Ripper’s apparently indiscriminate homicides would be proof of uncaring superiority; the Ripper has shown no racist, sexist, ageist nor dynamicist inclinations, rather an all above sense of neat omniscience.

Guessing the Chesapeake Ripper’s dynamic feels haphazard and counterproductive, mush as any tentative to include him in whatsoever predefined category, yet Will suspects that, whichever it may be, it fills him with immense satisfaction; he doesn’t intend to perfect his already sublime existence with accessory counterparts of his nature. “They don’t recognize their own imperfection,” as in the Ripper’s case, strong sadistic tendencies combined with God complexes of biblical proportion, “if just partially in their solitude.”

It must feel lonely to be a predator of the Chesapeake Ripper’s caliber; Will would know, although his prays are other predators, such as himself.

“Their surroundings prove insufficiently stimulating,” the calm voice of his patient listener presses, “not least of all, in providing unfortunate romantic relationships, which result challenging for individuals prone to social interactional issues, with their rut and heat cycles.”

Considering Betas are seldom included in dynamical dramas, Will can’t help but agree with that affirmation, “Such is our gift and our curse.”

Despite his honest bitterness, Will doesn’t miss the glimmer in the swallowing eyes scrutinizing his every expression. “Most recent studies reveal that ample leaps has been described on the artistic perception of Alphas and Omegas, cyclically favouring first the prior or the latter, in the course of history.”

“Much like a passing fad,” Will says, looking around with raised eyebrows. “Omegas must be in a bit of a dry spell, lately.” By mere coincidence, glancing behind his shoulders, Will meets the intense glaze of a beautiful, fierce creature, walking in his direction; lowering his gaze in reverence of her imperious presence and prostration to beg her forgiveness for not returning her attentions, Will intercepts a glimpse of her short name, pinned to her sinuous chest. “They find themselves seeking unavoidable alliances, to gain the power they need to overcome their problems; not always their research satisfies their expectations.”

Throw his watchful, intrigued gaze, his nameless listener expresses thinly disguised fascination with his perspective; it would be mildly impolite to urge him to proceed with his insightful observations, to whom he has no alternative accesses, yet he refrain himself to respect Will’s personal space, his demure nature, his momentary vulnerability. For the first time, Will wonders about his identity.

“Discomfort is the predominant sentiment shared by the present Omegas; it’s clear just by taking a look at our surroundings. They share different shades of scarce endurance and mild fear, they feel cornered and tested for their strongest instincts, which involve openness, among others. They force their supple, candid neck in a perpetual display of weakness, to appeal to our alphan urge to bite and reclaim, but this doesn’t mean they’re not scared to be owned.” Will wouldn’t be as disgusted, otherwise. “Not one of them is happy to find themselves here.”

Paraphrasing his unflattering description, anyone would infer Will’s opposition to this practice of enforced matchmaking, much as an animal exposition to foster thoroughbred breeding; despite his attendance at the same event, this stranger doesn’t even flinches at his incongruous disapproval.

“It must be very tiring to bear such awareness, despite your alphan nature,” he observes, in slightly inappropriate admiration. Will self-consciously retreats in his imaginary cold, flowing river; the steady current welcoming his return to his dark insides.

Truth be told, Will _is_ tired. Whenever his belligerent neurons absorb insecurities and stillness of an omegan gentle mind, Will knows he’d provide for a poor Dionysus, for there’s not enough space in his brain to contain such conflictual instincts. Taking off his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose, Will lets his uninviting aftershave resurface his memories about his past attempts at dating Betas; unchallenging, unfulfilling experiences. Despite his intents to calm his nerves, the thought does nothing but deepen his unsettling concerns.

Warm, long fingers wrap around his stiff shoulder, stabilising his loud beating heart in a rhythmical sound pulsing in his ears; Will almost misses the low whisper just itches from his cheek, condensed in the subtle fragrance reaching his nostrils, overwhelming his past reminder perfume. “I may have aggravated your state of distress, instead of decreasing it,” purrs his interlocutor, bordering the line of overbearing, “May I fetch you a glass of water?”

“We have not even been formally introduced, and you offer me something to drink?” It is not Will’s intention to sound half as flirtatious as his arrogant tone would suggest, yet holding eye contact longer than strictly necessary conveys his desire to understand the interest he arouses in this person. Will is not sure the answer would please him; it usually doesn’t.

“My apologise, I wouldn’t want to seem intrusive,” Will hears the subtle sarcasm in his tone, considering the both of them know he had been an insistent presence at his side since Dionysus attracted Will in its close proximity. “Doctor Hannibal Lecter,” he proceeds, undeterred.

 _Sounds familiar_ , considers Will before automatically answering in his most succinct manner, “Will Graham.” Knowing his identity doesn’t dissipate the charming glow surrounding him as Will had instead hoped it would; he still hasn’t associated the name with its recollection. “A pleasure,” Will says while waiting for his memory to match his shaven, neat features to a common acquaintance. It would admittedly be difficult to forget such sharp cheekbones, though.

Finding his tone dismissive, Lecter departs from him, getting lost into the crowd as Will abandons the sight of his reassuring, condescending smile for Dionysus’ softer, mischievous grin. In mere seconds, Will notices his slightly trembling hands, hidden in the discreet tightness of his trousers pockets; before any other rational thought crosses his mind, he realizes he misses the doctor’s calming scent, despite his usually irresponsive olfactory instincts.

Putting his head back, closing his eyes, wading into the quiet oh his stream, Will observes slender cypress on its sides, where wrinkled oak leaves carpet the path. Their mingled fragrances reconcile in him a sense of coveted peacefulness, yearned stability, which Will has started to consider out of his reach long years ago. Withdrawing from its source, Will knows, would be for the best, but not without regrets.

As he discloses his unfocussed eyes, searching for his elegant alphan companion in the undistinguished mass of their own kind, frenzied movements catches his attention in his peripheral vision; the shape of an extremely agitated woman fights through the crowd with shaking arms, looking increasingly hysterical. Will doesn’t even realizes she’s moving in his direction, until she clashes against him and his protective impulse order him to prevent her unstable progression towards the exit door.

Will glimpses his badge, reads her short name, before an acrid smell of omegan desperation pervades his still sensitive nostrils; his grip instinctively loosens and his suddenly warned guard lowers. His wandering gaze meets hers and, in the blink of an eye, Will forgets all about his quiet steam and forcefully participates in her contaminating sorrow.

 _This is not where I’m supposed to be_ , whines his inner voice, pleading, _I can’t accept this reality, I can’t accept their protection, their judgement; I can’t concede them unquestioned trust, I can’t trust their unfamiliar faces, I can’t see behind their hideous, frightening masks. This is not what I’m supposed to be, I shouldn’t be terrified, I’m not supposed to fight–_

Slow comprehension creeps in his overwhelmed brain, when Will realizes these thoughts are not his own. It takes longer than expected, for he has been identifying with her anguish in the past few hours, yet the cloying savour of omegan desire for an escape tastes completely different from his own. Will would ascribe her panic to an induced cause; she reached out to someone she trusted, she felt betrayed, became violent, reacted poorly. She stumbled in his arms along her way out.

Gasping for breath, their tense throats chokes over unspoken words. “I see you, Georgia,” Will says, compelled to disrupt her well-rooted belief, that she’s not been seen for who she is. “Think of who you are,” not the savage, unfitted Omega causing a shameful scene at a supposedly respectable audition, but the lonely, desperate, sad creature struggling to recognize herself in the mirror. “You’re not alone,” _we’re here together_ , almost leave his lips.

Maybe the thought hadn’t occurred to her in a while, “Am I alive?”

Instead of verbally answering her question, Will demonstrates her. Touching her damp cheeks, where not waterproof makeup has been gathering in tear traces, he concentrates to caress her blond hair without emitting his own kind of discontent scent, murmuring to her encouragingly, “You look alive, you look pretty.”

Sweet, welcoming notes of her omegan smell confirm Will is obtaining satisfying results with his procedure, until restless employees disrupt his timid speech and gently but peremptorily lead Georgia in her chamber, to quieten her exhausted nerves and let her regain composure.

Tracing with steady eyes her long dress disappear behind closing doors, Will is seized with momentary loss. His dedication to such fragile creature would be unadvisable in the long term of a relationship, yet his instincts advise him to follow her, to ensure she’s treated with utmost care, the way he could never provide her, as well as any other Omega.

Covetous eyes insistently stare at his figure, lingering on his exposed neck as Will accustoms once again to his surroundings; cypress notes reach his nose, in a conciliatory, pleasant waft, before a crystal, transparent glass beading with condensation fills his empty, extending hand. The cold droplets moisten his clammy palm, helping him to focus on his previous alphan speaker, which seem to have witnessed his unintentional spectacle with ardent curiosity.

“You were right, in your assumption,” Lecter observes, gently ushering him towards the corridor, in the dim light, away from prying eyes. “Distressed Omegas seem to attend this event, even those prone to anxiety attacks,” Will concentrates in his steady tone, finding it reassuring despite his personal aversion for stranger and not far from the likes.

Conduced to a secluded, comfortable seat, sipping his water in big, boisterous gulps, unconcerned with its temperature, Will searches for his own identity, mingled with Georgia’s bewilderment. “I loathe this demeaning display of disrespect,” Will confesses with blessedly closed eyes, slowly coming back to himself, slowly feeling like owning his own aching body; “This should not be acceptable, it doesn’t feel right.”

In the tense silence rife with expectations that follows, Will recognises his own mistake, expressing his unhindered opinion without considering the circumstances that witnessed their encounter. Looking down at his feet to placate his sense of vertigo, Will notices one of his shoelace came off, but he doesn’t move to fasten it just yet. The doctor, to his utter surprise, does. “Your disapproval on the matter of multidynamical audition should have sufficed to deter whoever wanted you to participate in this soirée.”

His long, cured fingers bend black strings in practiced circles, “Omegas are not the solution your chef is probably aiming for to reduce your uneasiness; quite the opposite, dare I say.” Will is mesmerised with the sight, marvellous of his alphan presence on his knee, conscious of the low chances of encountering an Alpha willing to bend in front of another one.

“Such insistence might be driven not by mere concern for your mental state, but also the desire to control your form of instability, encouraging it perhaps, in order to maintain the particular blend of forces actually keeping you in check,” he suggests, raising his dark eyes, maintaining his apparently submissive posture. “Their want might not be for your best.”

Will wonders if this person might infer some of the facets of his complicated relation with Jack, in the few hours they shared company with one another; his evident interest in him would certainly let Will presume so, yet he surprises himself thinking the doctor has been more than selflessly gentle towards him, since he addressed in front of Dionysus. “And what would _you_ want?” Will asks, interested in the answer.

“There’s a reason why Dionysus has been chosen as symbol to the perfect union between Alpha and Omega, instead of minor deity such as Hermaphroditus; while the first embodies the various facets of which humans dispose, to express their multiple nature, the latter arises from the harmonious marriage of Hermes and Aphrodite. Human features don’t contaminate their progeny, as happens in the case of the twice born God, not entirely human, but still partaking divine traits.” Satisfaction twinkles in his swallowing eyes, as Lecter proceeds, “I wonder what it would feel like, to obtain something to which humanity shouldn’t have access.”

 _He wants an equal_ , Will paraphrases in instant realisation; the man in front of him, bowed to his feet, has seen in him a complementary mate to match his own strength; someone to share his power with, not someone to defend from it; someone in his own image that helps him contain his solitude and boredom, at the same time. Someone to bend, someone that doesn’t break. Will is terrified to admit he’s equally nauseated from his attentions and immensely flattered by his assumptions; part of him can relate to such appetites, even if Will always denies his most animalistic urges.

“Stability lies in the knowledge of your own limits, not in containing fear dictated by circumstantial fences,” the doctor candidly asserts, relieving his absent hand from the weight of the empty glass, “I can help you discovering them.”

Lost in his own stupor, Will traces his dry inferior lip, realizing Hannibal attentively follows the movement of his tongue; his blatant court would have been evident, considering the lavishing, far from frivolous attentions. He had treated Will with the warmth reserved to an old friend, and Will had responded with more honesty than he usually concedes on first meetings, as if he had an intimate attraction to the familiar craving hidden under his elegant manners.

Furthermore, he has successfully kept Will distracted from their not exactly optimal surroundings, supplied for his needs, whenever they openly manifested, entertained more with his agreeable presence than the sensory overwhelm caused by their supplementary counterparts; apart from Georgia, Will has no memories of even laying his eyes upon noteworthy Omegas.

Will could almost picture Jack’s exasperated face, upon the discover that his interests have revolved towards unexpected shores; on the other hand, Hannibal might reveal more effective than any other Omega Will could have forced himself to dispassionately date.

Counting on the fingers of two hands the awkward seconds filled with silence, Will considers he probably should react to the tempting proposition. “You _do_ realize I’m an Alpha,” he moronically says, before fondness replenishes the lingering gaze meeting his own. Lithe fingers Will previously admired at his feet reach the back of his neck, caressing the short, raised hair in an insistent grip that seems to convey, _as I am_. Will brings his face closer to his speaker’s, exposing his throat in an even more suggestive stance than the one of his kneeling interlocutor.

Both of them are prostrating for the other, as he says, “Despite your attempts to cover your delicious scent with that unfortunate aftershave, I am aware. Nonetheless, I intend to meticulously wash that horrendous smell away and make sure personally, if you don’t mind me trying.”

Hannibal does more than simply try, as soon as he invites Will in his sumptuous bed. As if testing the unfounded theory that Alphas don’t induce ruts into one another, Hannibal explores his heated skin, smells his aching glands, inspects his swollen knot with avid tongue and expert teeth, letting Will sweat naturally away his unwelcomed fragrance.

Finding his hands bind upon his dishevelled hair, mouthing at the turgid erection on front of his puffed lips, Will mirrors his aggressive treatment, sucking with hollow cheeks and licking at its length with painstakingly lasciviousness of which he wasn’t aware to dispose.

Alphas are not _meant_ to find pleasure in the introduction of knots or penis-shaped accessories in their anatomical openings, yet the blissed, heavy breathes leaving Hannibal’s open slack mouth as he impales himself on Will’s hard, painfully unsatisfied cock, is nothing but pleased. His mischievous smile, as he ruthlessly rides his orgasm from Will, milking his sterile semen with rotatory, assertive moves, pins Will against the large mattress, grasping silken sheets as Hannibal’s hands encircles his wrists in a tight grip; whatever Will does, he’s not going to hurt him. Hannibal won’t let him.

With his teeth, Will traces the supple, inviting neck Hannibal offers in condescending request. The urge to claim, to caress, to lovingly cuddle, to condemn the both of them to an incomplete existence without the other, makes Will realise he’s just as powerful as the Alpha holding his exposed neck in the same position, angling it with specular purposefulness, and just as intoxicated with his flattering restlessness.

Just as suffocating in his mirroring, potentially destructive possessiveness.

  


**Author's Note:**

> There’s an embarrassingly long list of sites I consulted in order to provide myself with a decent mythologic knowledge, apart from Wikipedia; I just hope I didn’t unbearably mess around with that and English grammar. My [Tumblr](https://cinnamaldeide.tumblr.com/) is always available for instructive comments, in case :)


End file.
